


Her Fifteenth Birthday

by MandyinKC



Series: Of Love & Quidditch [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandyinKC/pseuds/MandyinKC
Summary: It's Katie Bell's birthday, and suddenly she's not the little girl she use to be. Poor Oliver can't help but notice, much to his discomfort.





	Her Fifteenth Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta PJHope. She posts on fanfiction.net if you want to check out her work.
> 
> This is just a taste of Katie and Oliver. More to come soon...

 

Her Fifteenth Birthday

 

 

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

 

“Quit complaining,” Oliver replied as he led Percy down a dusty tunnel by the light of his wand. “Besides, I made sure that Penelope would be here for you, mate.”

 

That shut Percy up for a moment, but only for a moment.

 

“But I’m Head Boy,” Percy moaned, “I shouldn’t be sanctioning something like this.”

                 

Oliver stopped and turned to look at his friend. “Perce, we are two of the dullest Gryffindors to ever set foot in Hogwarts. For Merlin’s sake, it’s our Seventh Year, if we’re not going to live a little now, then when?”

 

But Percy was undeterred, “And it just encourages Fred and George…”

                 

“Fred and George don’t need encouraging, they just need air to breathe. Will you relax, you’re about to get some quality snogging time with your girl!”

 

Oliver started forward again, wondering how the twins ever found wherever it was this party was being held. They’d had to wind deep down into the castle’s most cobweb infested corridors, behind tapestries that had not seen the light of day for some time and they still had not reached their destination. Just when he figured those two troublemakers had led him on a merry Snitch chase, Oliver saw a faint light ahead and heard music and laughter.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure that Fred and George had intended to invite him to this party of theirs. Oliver had caught the twins in the planning and they’d exchanged weary looks when he demanded to know what they were up to.

                 

“It won’t interfere with Quidditch,” Fred had sworn vehemently.

 

“It’s Katie’s fifteenth birthday,” George said, “and we thought it would be a good way—“

 

“To blow off a bit of steam,” Fred finished

 

Oliver had stared at them, sure the twins were referring to him and his grueling practice schedule when they said that. Oliver knew he was tough on his team, but they would thank him when they held the Quidditch Cup. Still, a little off-pitch camaraderie could be important in solidifying his team’s chemistry.

 

“Count me in,” Oliver said decisively. “And I’m bringing Percy along.”

 

“No!” This erupted from both twins, hands waving frantically before them.

 

“I bring Percy,” Oliver said, “or I _tell_ Percy.”

 

They groaned, slumping identically in defeat. “Oi, you drive a hard bargain, Wood.”

 

“And make sure that Penelope Clearwater is there,” Oliver had finished.

 

A week later, Oliver found himself dragging Percy into an antechamber in the bowels of Hogwarts. Standing in the entrance, Oliver saw crimson and gold balloons floating on the ceiling, seemingly lighting the room. Lee Jordan was in the corner magically amplifying music from the wireless. Mouthwatering smells were wafting to him from food that must have been catered by the Hogwarts’s house elves.

 

From the back of the room, Angelina Johnson saw Oliver and Percy taking in the scene around them. Nudging George in the ribs, she said, “Our fearless Captain just showed up…with your brother.”

 

George looked to the entry and smirked. “It’s cool, Johnson.”

 

“We made sure to provide Percy a distraction from all the debauchery,” Fred put in.

 

“By inviting Penelope Clearwater.”

 

“Who is already a little drunk—“

 

“And hopefully planning to debauch the Big Head Boy!” George finished gleefully.

 

“What I don’t understand,” said Alicia Spinnet, “is what those two have in common.”

 

“Have you met Penelope?” Fred asked despairingly.

 

“Not them!” Alicia exclaimed. “Percy and Oliver.”

 

“Well, Alicia, you see, they’re both swots,” Fred answered.

 

“Oliver is a Quidditch swot,” George added.

 

“And Percy is just a swot!”

 

“What’s surprising, is that Percy is better with the ladies.”

 

“Percy is kind of cute,” Angelina said objectively.

 

“He has that curly hair,” agreed Alicia.

 

“And a nice smile, when he smiles that is.”

 

“Ugh, ladies, we do not want to hear about how you fancy our Big Head brother,” exclaimed one twin as the other feigned retching.

 

Meanwhile, across the room, the two seventh years in question were scanning the room for two particular females.

 

“Do you see Bell anywhere?” Oliver asked.

 

“Her name is Katie, actually,” Percy said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

Oliver smirked. She would always be Bell to him. His favorite little Chaser. Sure, Angelina was more talented and her heart burned with competition, while Alicia was the best flyer he knew and made teamwork effortless. But neither of them enjoyed it as much as Katie. He loved watching her play because she was always so happy to be on the pitch.

 

“Isn’t that her there?” Percy said, motioning to the jumble of dancing bodies. “With Davies.”

 

Oliver looked at the girl dancing with Roger Davies, and his mouth fell open. That couldn’t be Bell. Not his little Bell, his Chaser, his tomboy. This girl had hips. And jiggling breasts that were in danger of spilling out her frock. She had a narrow waist that Oliver could span his big hands around. Not to mention her hair, piled on her head in some sophisticated style, and the three pounds of makeup. No, that couldn’t be Katie, er, Bell.

 

Davies (damn him) was staring at all of it much too appreciatively.

 

“Oliver, close your mouth before the twins notice,” Percy said, laughing. “I just saw Penny, so I’ll leave you to it then.”

 

Oliver snapped his mouth shut as Angelina and Alicia sidled up to him.

 

“Ollie, we’re glad you made it,” Angelina said.

 

“You could do with some loosening up,” Alicia giggled.

 

“Which of you two tarted up Katie—I mean Bell?” he demanded, glowering at the girls.

 

The two Chasers exchanged a look before turning on Oliver with a fury that took his breath away.

 

“‘Tarted her up?’” Angelina echoed. One eyebrow climbed up her forehead to dangerous heights.

 

“She’s not a little girl anymore,” Alicia said, hands on her hips. “She wanted to look pretty on her birthday.”

 

“And grown up.”

 

“Who are you to declare any female a tart?” Alicia challenged.

 

“You carried on with that slag, Heather from Hufflepuff, for three months, and she could barely be trusted to keep her top on in the Great Hall, for Merlin’s sake!”

 

“Not to mention that Katie’s dress is no more revealing than any other girl’s in this room—“

 

“Including ours!” Angelina added stabbing a finger at Oliver.

 

“Are you calling us tarts, Oliver?” Alicia hissed.

 

Oliver came from a family of wizards. He had two older brothers and one much younger brother. There were only two girl cousins on his mother’s side of the family and the Woods hadn’t produced a lass in more generations than the Weasleys. Oliver was not equipped to deal with the ire of the two witches standing before him.

 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Er—I was just, um, surprised. I’m sorry?”

 

“I should hope,” snapped Alicia.

 

Angelina just glared at Oliver in a way that made his blood run cold. Merlin, he had a feeling the Quaffles would be coming at his head extra hard next practice. Thankfully, they sauntered off and he was left with his manhood intact.

 

Well, Oliver reckoned he should wish Katie a happy birthday. He shuffled onto the dance floor, such as it was, running into people and narrowly dodging past undulating bodies. He bumped into Judy Scrivner from Ravenclaw, his hand accidently brushing her arse.

 

She turned on him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, um, sorry,” he stammered, holding his hands aloft.

 

Judy rubbed up against him, doing some wiggly female dance where her bosom was pressed into his chest and her hips kept grinding against his crotch. “I don’t mind, Wood,” she cooed.

 

He went stiff against her, all those jokes his dorm mates made about “sporting Wood” rung in his ears. She wouldn’t notice? Of course she would notice with her belly pressed up on him like that! She wouldn’t think that he fancied her, would she? It was just physical…Merlin, this is why he should never leave the Quidditch pitch.

 

“Erm, maybe some other time, then, Judy.”

 

He managed to extricate himself from her wiggling, only to trip over his own feet. He stumbled a few steps and knocked right into Katie and Davies. The three of them toppled onto the ground, clearing a space around them as they sprawled across the floor.

 

“Watch where you’re going, man!” Davies sputtered.

 

“Katie—er, Bell, are you alright?” Oliver asked as he took her arm.

 

“Ollie!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing into him for an enthusiastic hug.

 

Oliver found himself with his face pressed into her neck, which was very soft and a little warm and smelled like fruit. Hesitantly, he spread his hands—had they always been so large and clumsy—across her supple back, he could feel each of her ribs as he drew his thumbs down her sides. Then he became uncomfortably aware that her breasts, her round, milky white breasts, were pressed up practically under his chin. If he shifted just a little, he could run his lips across the tops of them. Would they smell like fruit too? Would she moan if he did it? Or whimper?

 

Bloody hell! What was he thinking? This was Katie. No, not Katie. This was _Bell_! She was like…like…like…a sister! Not that he had any idea what it was like to have a sister, but if he had one, he was sure she would be like Katie—Bell, that is.

 

Somehow, Oliver didn’t think he would feel this aroused about his sister though. He mentally started cataloging every shot he’d ever let past him, starting when he was eight-years-old and Dougal and Fergus made him play Keeper in the garden at home. Oliver tried to take a steadying breath, but all he inhaled was more of Katie and that was not helping. Merlin, he thought he was aroused earlier, but it was nothing like this. He was hard as a rock and if Katie moved just a little to the left, maybe…

 

She pulled away and looked at him with a dopey grin on her face. “The twins told me you would be here, but I thought they were just taking the mickey,” she giggled then and Oliver could smell the Firewhisky on her breath. “I said ‘Not Ollie, he has to draw up plays and think of new ways to torture us.’ But here you are, I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

“I think you’re a little pissed, Bell.”

 

Katie giggled again, swaying towards him so that their noses were nearly touching. “Just a bit.”

 

“I think you interrupted our dance, Wood,” Davies said tersely. He was standing now, glowering down at Oliver. Davies offered his hand to Katie.

 

“Roger is a great dancer,” Katie said, placing her hand in the Ravenclaw Captain’s. “You know Roger, don’t you? Of course you do! You’re both Quidditch Captains!”

 

Davies rolled his eyes. The inexplicable urge to smash in his face had Oliver fisting his hands. He’d never had a problem with the other Quidditch Captain before, but a burning hatred was coiling in the pit of Oliver’s stomach at the moment. He lumbered to his feet, suddenly very aware of his burly body in comparison to Davies’s sleek, slim build. Well, at least Oliver towered over Davies by a good four inches. Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping it looked casual, to mask his lingering erection.

 

“Well, I just wanted to say happy birthday, then,” Oliver mumbled. He felt awkward, but Katie beamed at him and he couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“You have a nice smile, Oliver,” she said with a giggle, leaning towards him. He had never realized how delightful her giggle was before.

 

“Come on,” said Davies, tugging her hand. “It’s a slow song, dance with me.”

 

“Bye, Ollie Oliver!” She waved at him from over her shoulder as the other boy towed her away.

 

Oliver turned abruptly and stalked away in the other direction. He used every ounce of determination he had not to look back over his shoulder at Katie dancing with _him_.

 

As he neared the edge of the dance floor, Oliver spied Fred and George, each holding a bottle of Firewhisky. Damn nuisances, the both of them. They no doubt supplied Katie with alcohol. What were they thinking? She was just a kid! He tried not to think about when he was fifteen and had tagged along to his brother’s stag party. He wasn’t quite as much of a kid after, thanks to Fergus.

 

“Oi, Oliver!” yelled Fred. Or, at least, Oliver was pretty sure it was Fred. “Heard you’re pissing off all the witches.”

 

“Gimme that!” Oliver snapped, swiping the bottle out of the other boy’s hand and stomping away.

 

“Something’s put a bee in his bonnet, Gred,” said the other twin.

 

“Methinks it was our birthday girl, Forge.”

 

Oliver decided to hold up the wall over the next hour. Percy was who-knows-where with Penelope. No one believed it, but Percy could be quite crafty, especially when it came to finding hidden places to snog his girlfriend. Alicia and Angelina were still scowling at him from across the room. The other Gryffindors were giving him a wide birth as he was a glowering black cloud. Even the twins had taken the hint, leaving Oliver alone with his bottle.

 

His eyes kept being drawn to Katie, who was still dancing with Davies. The Ravenclaw Captain now had his own bottle of Firewhisky. It appeared that Katie was drinking from it far more than Davies. Damn lecher.

 

“Wood, I thought you promised me a dance,” purred a female voice. Perfume wafted over Oliver, followed by fingers climbing up his chest. He followed the arm up to Judy Scrivner’s face.

 

“I think you are mistaken,” he rasped back.

 

“Still.” She pouted. “You look lonely over here.”

 

For a moment, Oliver stared at the witch leaning into him. Judy was pretty, he supposed. Real made up though. She was a seventh year like him, too. There was a voice in his head, one that sounded an awful lot like Fergus’s, that said Judy would make for a good distraction. But there was a warring voice, too, and this one was undeniably Dougal, that said only an arsehole would use a witch so shamefully.

 

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

 

“Not much,” she replied with a shrug, “It’s not like I think you’re the one, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, her fingers still trailing across his chest.

 

Well, if all Judy wanted was a good snog, Oliver could certainly do with a diversion. He curled one hand around her waist, noting that it wasn’t as narrow as Katie’s, and pulled Judy against him. Even with him slumped against the wall, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach up to kiss him. She was a good kisser, he thought absently. She slanted her mouth over his chin and down his throat. Discreetly, he slid his hand around to cup her breast. She pushed into his hand with an encouraging moan. Oliver wondered if he was more drunk than he’d thought.

 

“I bet you have rough hands,” she said eagerly. “Catching all those Quaffles.”

 

“Um, yeah, I guess.” He wore gloves, but his hands were still calloused. Heather used to complain that they would get caught in her hair.

 

“Maybe if we found—“

 

“Bloody hell!” Gripping Judy’s waist, Oliver unceremoniously set her aside. “This has been great, but, um, something just came up. See you in Transfiguration.”

 

Once more, Oliver pushed his way through the dance floor, but this time he was not careful about treading on the dancers. He made his way to the door where Davies had led Katie through only moments ago. If Davies thought that he could just get a mindless snog off Katie, he had another think coming. Katie wasn’t like…Heather or Judy.

 

Well, not to Oliver she wasn’t.

 

That was the precise moment Oliver remembered that he did have a sister. His sister-in-law, Catriona. He’d known her since he was eleven-years-old. Catriona was beautiful, but Oliver certainly didn’t feel about her the way he’d felt about Katie earlier—Dougal did though.

 

Oliver stopped just short of the door. He felt winded, though not for the mad dash across the room. As hard as it was to admit, Katie wasn’t a little girl any more, but she wasn’t a woman yet either. For that matter, he knew he wasn’t grown either, but he would be making the jump into adulthood in the spring, ready or not. He wasn’t going to be around to watch Katie become a woman, she’d be doing that on her own in front of a whole castle of boys. Lucky bastards.

 

Swallowing hard, Oliver realized that no matter how much he wanted to, he shouldn’t follow Katie out that door. This was her time to make mistakes and snog boys, and Davies fit both of those categories. Oliver and Katie, on the other hand, were teammates and friends, hopefully not in that order. That didn’t give Oliver the right to interrupt…whatever she was doing with that berk. No matter how much he wanted to. And it didn’t give him the right to hex Davies to the stars and back either. No matter how much he wanted to.

 

Oliver was warring with himself, torn between doing the right thing and his deep desire to give Davies the beat down of his life. Maybe there was a compromise? Oliver could just check on them. If Katie was having a good time, he would force himself to go back to the common room. If Davies was doing anything to make her uncomfortable, Oliver would rip him from limb to limb. Yes, that sounded like the perfect solution.

 

More slowly, Oliver made his way out the door. Just down the corridor, still visible by the light from the room, were Davies and Katie. He had her backed against the wall and they were definitely snogging alright. Katie’s hands were on Davie’s shoulders and his hands were respectfully placed on her waist. Oliver’s heart twisted, but he saw what he’d come to see and now it was time to go.

 

Oliver turned away. He figured he should say good-bye to the twins, in case Percy wondered where he was. Not that it was likely. Percy might be the smartest person he knew (no, he mentally corrected himself, Bill Weasley was decidedly the smartest person he’d ever met), regardless, Percy was an idiot when Penny was about.

 

“Roger, no.”

 

Oliver froze.

 

“I’m not ready for that.”

 

“C’mon, Kate,” Davies cajoled. “You’ve been pushing them in my face all night.”

 

“No, I haven’t.”

 

“They’re lovely, you know.”

 

“Well, look but don’t touch,” Katie snapped, and Oliver grinned for the fire in her voice. That was his little tomboy.

 

He turned then, crossed his thickly muscled arms over his broad chest and leaned with deceptive casualness against the wall. Again that night, Oliver was distinctly aware of his strongly built body, and he didn’t feel awkward about it at all. “You need a hand, Bell?”

 

Davies looked up and scowled. He had one hand hovering over Katie’s breast. “You _are_ as thick as you look, aren’t you, Wood? We are having a private moment, beat it.”

 

Katie shoved the Ravenclaw Captain hard, just like she threw a Quaffle. He stumbled backwards and landed on his arse. “I think I have it under control, Ollie, cheers.”

 

“You little…”

 

Oliver sprung away from the wall. “Watch it,” he growled warningly.

 

Davies got to his feet, sparing a wary look at Oliver. “You’ve been leading me on all night,” he accused.

 

“I just wanted to dance!” Katie shot back, outraged.

 

“Then you came out here with me.”

 

“It’s my birthday,” she said and Oliver heard the hurt in her voice. This was Katie’s first kiss, he was sure of it. “I just thought…”

 

“Tart,” Davies scoffed.

 

And Oliver broke his nose. Blood spurted from it and splattered on Oliver’s shirt as he heard a satisfying crunching noise. Davies lay curled on the floor, his hands covering his face, whimpering. Squealing, Katie wrapped her arms tightly around Oliver’s bicep and yanked him away.

 

Oliver grinned unrepentantly. He was a Gryffindor for a reason, chivalry ran strong in the Wood line.

 

“Ollie!” Katie admonished. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“He impugned your honor.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You wizards are positively medieval…but still very sweet, I reckon.”

 

“You seemed to have sobered up.”

 

She tugged her top up awkwardly, dropping her eyes. “Yeah, I reckon I have.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I wanted to feel older, you know?”

 

“I do know,” Oliver said quietly, with feeling. “Do you want a hug or something?”

 

A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Just don’t cry on me.” He held his arms open and she went into them, wrapping her arms around his middle and leaning her head against his chest. He gingerly wrapped his arms about her shoulders.

 

“You have no clue about girls, do you?” she asked.

 

“Nope, none.” He shook his head, her hair brushing against chin and mouth.

 

Katie looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “Do you think I was leading him on?”

 

“No,” Oliver denied fiercely. “It’s okay to look…grown up and dance with a boy and even snog him, you didn’t do anything wrong. And you handled yourself really well out here.”

 

“Cheers,” she said and sniffed.

 

“Thanks for not crying on me.”

 

She giggled again. “Do you suppose you could walk me back to the common room?”

 

“Aye. Sure.”

 

Katie looked over Oliver’s shoulder at Davies who was still sniveling on the floor. “What about him?”

 

Oliver looked at the other Captain. “Well, I was thinking of setting Fred and George loose on him next time Gryffindor plays Ravenclaw.”

 

“No, I mean we shouldn’t just leave him there, should we?”

 

“Oh, I suppose I could fix his nose,” Oliver said with a shrug.

 

“You can do that?”

 

“I have two older brothers, Episkey is the first spell I learned.”

 

“Hm.” Katie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I think the broken nose is enhancing his looks.”

 

Oliver chuckled. “Blood thirsty wench. We could find Percy and let him sort it out.”

 

“He’ll probably dock a lot of points off Gryffindor.”

 

“Eh, I’ll play the Ginny card.”

 

She arched her brow. “The Ginny card?”

 

“ _Percy, what if he had manhandled Ginny and called her a tart, what would you have done?_ Davies will be lucky if doesn’t get a hexing out of it.”

 

Reluctantly, Oliver released Katie and walked over to Davies. Squatting down, he pulled his wand from his pocket. “Be a man, Davies,” he said. “Fergus first broke my nose when I was five and I didn’t carry on this much.”

 

He tapped the other boy’s nose with his wand, murmuring the spell. There was a crackling noise as the nose healed, and Davies gasped in pain. Oliver grinned unapologetically.

 

“You should learn to keep your hands to yourself, man. She was quite clear with her intentions and you were a git.”

 

He stood and turned to Katie, who was now carrying her heeled shoes in one hand. She was short in stocking feet, when he put an arm about her shoulders, she only came up to his armpit. Still, she leaned her head against his chest as he led her down the corridor. Oliver reveled in the feeling of being the big protector, even if he knew it was an illusion. Katie was strong, despite her size, and she could take care of herself. She was going to be an amazing woman in a few years’ time. She was already an amazing girl.

 

Maybe, if he were lucky, he’d get to meet that woman again. Until then, Oliver realized, he was going to learn to be a patient man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
